Release Weekend Party ~ Teresa Reasor ~ Giveaway #3

Kally Masters is one of the most generous writers I know. Sharing her limelight today is just one example of that. Thank you Kally for letting me be part of your release party!! 

I have a ebook copy of Breaking Through for the lucky winner who wins the draw. I’d love to hear from anyone who is interested in it. Be sure to fill out the Rafflecopter at the end of the post to be entered!!!

Introducing The Characters of 

Breaking Through

Breaking Through was released September 6, 2012. And I thought I’d give readers a taste of each story line explored in the book. Read on and find out about each of the characters in my new book.

Ensign Brett “Cutter” Weaver has just awakened from a month long coma to find he’s being investigated for the murder of a young Iraqi boy. NCIS approaches him about the protection detail. But he has no memory of his last days in Iraq and his SEAL team buddy Derrick Armstrong isn’t talking. And worse, the men in the two cover vehicles that accompanied them on the detail are dead. What can he do to prove his innocence?

Jackson stood at the window, his hands in his pockets.

“Crouch said you had some paperwork for me.”

He turned to face Brett.

“Yes, sir. Dr. Stewart has released me for duty, sir.”

Jackson accepted the manila folder with a frown and opened it. He flipped through the paperwork, studied the documents for a few moments, and set aside the packet.

“There’s a problem with sending you back to your team.”

Brett sucked in a breath. Fucking knew it. Saw it coming a mile off. The blow still hit as though he’d been sucker-punched in the nuts. He breathed through the anger, but betrayal clawed at his gut nearly choking him.

“What kind of —pro- problem?” This was not the time for this fucking speech thing to kick in.

Jackson’s eyes narrowed.

“Your position on NCIS’s radar for the shit about the missing boy was a catalyst. It’s brought scrutiny back to the team concerning Derrick’s take down. NCIS is trying to say the men acted in the capacity of police officers. I think they’re trying to put pressure on the whole team to give you and Armstrong up.”

“But we didn’t do anything.”

“How can you be sure if you can’t remember, Weaver?”

Where was the man’s belief? He’d voiced it the last time he’d stood here in this office.

He studied Jackson’s expression, and anger as hard and unbending as iron ate up the hurt.

“I have a good reputation in the teams. I’m a SEAL, and I’ve conducted myself as a SEAL should in all things. My record speaks for itself. The only way my enlistment will end is if I’m killed in combat.”

Jackson’s gaze shifted.

“You’ll have to wait until this is settled before returning to the team. I’ll have orders for you in a few days. Dismissed, Ensign.”

Brett forced his hand up in a salute he didn’t believe the fucker deserved. You could judge a man by how he treated his family. Captain Jackson had dismissed his wife and child the moment he’d slammed the door behind them. That told him Jackson would sacrifice whomever he had to, to bring this shit to an end.

He wasn’t going to be made into a sacrificial lamb to make Jackson’s life easier. Fuck that.

Tess Kelly is the only daughter of award winning journalist Ian Kelly. Tess works for the San Diego Tribune writing for the Life Styles page. Though she’s not interested in covering international stories like her father, she’s always wanted more. When Brett Weaver approaches her with the story of the lifetime, she can’t say no. But she soon learns the wounded warrior is a force to be reckoned with and she’s torn between her ambition and her feelings for him. Will she release the story and end Brett’s SEAL career?

The moment she placed her hand in his, her breathing grew unsteady. He tugged her to her feet and into his arms with an ease that had her breath catching altogether. At five foot five and a hundred and twenty pounds, she’d thought herself sturdy, but held against Brett’s six-foot frame with his broad shoulders and chest stretched before her, she felt delicate.

His hand splayed against her back, but he didn’t pull her in too close. He guided her just near enough for their bodies to brush as he led her into a slow, swaying rhythm, part seduction, part torture.

She couldn’t have sex with him. He was a source.

He was in trouble, but every time she looked into his baby blues, she just couldn’t believe him capable of cold-blooded murder.

And the more she got to know him, the more she was drawn to him.

But could she trust her instincts?

She gnawed her lower lip.

“Relax, I don’t bite,” he said, resting his cheek against her hair.

“It isn’t that. I’m more at ease in the professional realm than I am the personal one.” Oh, shit. Did I just admit that?

Dancing with this man was personal. She was sharing her space with him. But it didn’t feel like an invasion for him to hold her. It felt—amazing. She wanted to lean into him. He smelled like laundry soap and grill smoke, blended with the light fragrance of cologne and the underlying scent of him.

The pressure of his hand guided her closer, and she had no choice but to relax when every muscle turned to liquid. A rush of need set afire every nerve. Her hand slid from his shoulder to rest against his chest, the muscle there evident beneath her touch.

“This isn’t a good idea.” Her voice came out just above a whisper.

“We’re just dancing. What’s not good about it?” His husky voice wreaked havoc on the aching heat growing between her thighs.

What could she say when every inch of her was alive to every move he made? Had they been alone, she’d have been tempted to hook a knee around his hip and press against the growing bulge that brushed against her belly.

Oliver Shaker spoke before either of them was aware of his approach.

“Call me if you need anything, Cutter.” The baby lay nestled against his shoulder asleep, her little form so relaxed her limbs looked boneless.

“Thanks, Greenback,” Brett said.

“Good night,” Selena offered, her soft voice almost carried away by the stiffening breeze.

Though Brett continued to hold Tess for several moments, the interruption had broken the spell. She pulled away and slumped back into her chair, feeling like a teenager caught necking in the back seat of a car.

This was the first time she’d gotten so twisted up over a man she’d actually wanted to throw caution to the wind. Brett Weaver was dangerous.

Lieutenant Adam “Hawk” Yazzie is Brett’s SEAL team CO. He knows Brett is innocent, but when he comes head-to-head with the people investigating his teammate, Hawk finds his own career and freedom hanging in the balance. Can he fight free of the allegations threatening him so he can have a life with the woman he loves?

And now he was going to see his girl, even if it was just for a minute between patients. He lengthened his stride and excitement brought a surge in his heart rate and his temperature. He’d missed her every day and every night of the three weeks he’d been gone.

A woman passed him the hall and paused.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“I’m looking for Zoe Weaver. She’s a physical therapist here.”

The woman’s eyes ran down over his brown t-shirt and desert cammies, all the way to his boots. The come-on registered only long enough for him to frown. Not interested.

“And you are?” she asked

Her boyfriend. Her partner. Her lover. Her man. It was growing more awkward for him each time someone asked. Zoe deserved to be a wife. He wanted to be a husband. So, why wasn’t he remedying that situation?

“I’m Adam Yazzie, her boyfriend. I’ve been gone three weeks on a training op and just wanted to see her.”

The woman’s attitude changed from scoping him out to being helpful.

“She’s with a patient, but I’ll slip into the room and tell her you’re here. You can go down to the lounge and get a cup of coffee while you wait. It’s just three doors down and to the right.”

“Thanks.” A patient with an artificial arm fitted at the elbow walked by and saluted him with his hook. Their eyes met for a moment and Hawk returned the salute. By the grace of God.

Hawk was reminded every day how lucky he was. He wandered down the hall to a room with a kitchen, a small table and chairs, and a television mounted high on the wall in one corner. The smell of fresh coffee permeated the room. He leaned against the counter uninterested. All he wanted was to see Zoe and hold her.

Five minutes passed and he was reading the same poster about the stages of grief for the tenth time when Zoe rushed in. For a split second they just looked at one another, and then they were in each other’s arms. Zoe’s head pressed against his chest and her arms clung tight around his waist, her breasts pushing into his ribs. He breathed in her vanilla scent. Vanilla and her. God knew what he smelled like after riding from Miramar to the base in the back of a truck. Maybe he should have stopped to shower. He ran his hand down her back to her waist with one hand while he cupped her head with the other and tangled his fingers in her ponytail.

When she finally leaned back to look up at him and smiled, his mouth found hers. Her lips parted and their tongues tangled. The kiss went on and on as they tried to make up for three weeks of separation.

When he finally raised his head her voice came wispy with emotion.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

Hawk cupped her face with both of his hands and just studied each feature. He’d never known he was capable of loving anyone as completely as he loved her.

“The words me too don’t even scratch the surface.”

Her dark blue eyes looked even darker since the kiss. He took her lips again, this time with all the tenderness that rose inside him.

“You can’t keep looking at me like that, kissing me like that. You’re either going to make me cry or we’re going to have to find a storage closet somewhere,” she said, her laugh shaky.

“There’s an idea. What time do you get off?”

A grin curved her lips. “As soon as I get home, I hope.”

Zoe Weaver is Brett’s sister and Hawk’s girlfriend. When Zoe learns both her brother and Hawk are under investigation she’s outraged.  How can anyone threaten them with prison when all they’ve done is put their life in jeopardy to save hers? She’s determined to do everything she can to support them. But Zoe has a secret she fears might distract Hawk and put his life at risk. Will she tell him before he deploys to Iraq, or after?

Zoe slid out of her seat and into his lap. She ran her hands over his close-cropped hair.

“Why are they doing this now?”

“Because I pissed somebody off, because I was pissed off. They were giving me the runaround, and they weren’t doing their damn jobs. They didn’t like having that pointed out. I’m hoping it’s a warning just to stay the hell out of their business. But if it’s not … ”

Could her stomach possibly get any more knotted?

He focused on her, his gaze steady while his hands moved up and down her back restlessly.

“When you came back to me after our breakup, I made a promise to myself. I’d held things back from you and it caused problems between us. I’m not making that mistake again.”

His words grabbed her by the throat and made her own reticence about the baby seem more a lie than an attempt to keep him safe. The words were there on the tip of her tongue, begging to be spoken. But how could she drop the news on him when he was twisted up about this? He was turning to her for comfort, not something more to worry about.

She cupped his face and kissed him.

“I love you, Adam Yazzie. No matter what happens, I’ll never stop loving you.” She kissed him again and felt the familiar heat of his response in the way his arms tightened around her, the way his lips and tongue moved against hers.

The growing intensity of his kisses, his touch as he unbuttoned her blouse, set in motion a languorous spiral of need. She wanted to spread her legs and take him inside right here on the chair. But her leg wouldn’t allow it.

Hawk rose with her in his arms and dodged through the kitchen door in the direction of the bedroom.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmured against her lips. “We’re going to be okay.”

Not if you keep lying to him, her conscience whispered. I’ll tell him later, after we’ve held each other. After he’s less upset.

He lowered her to the bed. She shut out the nagging voice and drew him down to her.

Clara Weaver is Brett and Zoe’s mother. Clara just retired from her teaching position and is thinking about relocating so she can be closer to her two youngest children. She runs into Dr. Russell Connelly, the physician who cared for Brett during his coma, and is caught unaware when she feels an overwhelming attraction to him. She’s been a widow for over twenty years and though she’s had a date here and there she’s never felt that special spark with anyone but her husband. Until now. Will she be brave enough to set aside her age related insecurities and open her heart to another man?

She’d been looking for more. She’d been looking for what she’d had with Joe. But she’d never found even a hint of that special something with the four men she’d gone out with.

Then on her fiftieth birthday—She cringed at the memory. Charlie Cooper was a nice guy. But she’d felt self-conscious and uncomfortable afterwards. Guilty, too. Though he’d called and tried to ask her out several times, she’d never seen him again.

Her gaze rose to her reflection in the microwave door above the stove. She touched the fine lines around her eyes and mouth. What was it Russell Connelly saw when he looked at her?

She turned away from her reflection. Fifty-five was worse than fifty. Five years worse. Pathetically worse. If Russell were interested, how would she feel if he wanted more? The panicked beating of her heart was her only answer.

Dr. Russell Connelly is stunned by the connection he feels for Clara but his estranged son has just arrived to visit and brought with him tragic news.  Evan is ill and has come to mend their differences, if he can. It isn’t the best time to start a new relationship with Clara. And how can Russell ask this woman who’s already lost so much, to open her heart to the both of them when one of them may die?

She smiled again. “Clara. Surely you can call me Clara now.”

Why hadn’t he noticed this beautiful, vibrant woman two months ago?

Because she’d been the mother of his patient, and he’d been keeping his professional distance.But also, because she’d been under tremendous stress. Her son had lain in a coma. Her older daughter had had an emergency C-section, a baby girl, if he remembered correctly. And the same team member rumored to have injured Brett and caused his coma had nearly killed her youngest daughter.

“Dad.” 

Evan’s voice just behind him caught his attention. He tore his gaze away from Clara Weaver to face his son.

Time stopped. His heart plunged. My God. What the hell happened? He barely bit back the exclamation. What’s wrong?

Yassin al-Yussef is a humble Iraqi businessman who has acted as a liaison between business people in Iraq and the American military to bring prosperity to his fellow countrymen. His son Sanjay was delivered home from the base by a protection detail of Navy SEALs and Marines. Or was he?

    

Four long months had passed since he had seen his son. Four months filled with an unrelenting fear and grief that he could no longer bear.

He had watched Levla change from a vibrant, joyful woman to a shadow. She disappeared into her grief more and more each day. Though she never spoke the words, he knew she blamed him for trusting to strangers to deliver their only child home. He blamed himself. He had allowed his work to devour his life, and now his son was gone.

Anger and grief twisted together, clawing at his insides, burrowing into his brain. The men who were supposed to keep him safe and see him home safely must have killed him. They had to pay.

Blurb: 

What happens when a Navy SEAL wakes from a month-long coma to discover he’s being investigated for murder?

When Ensign Brett Weaver is accused of murder, he knows he’s innocent, but how can he prove it with Naval Investigators breathing down his neck? A chance meeting with reporter Tess Kelly offers him an opportunity to get the press on his side. But can he trust her to keep his other secrets off the record?

Tess works hard to live up to her father's expectations. When Brett offers her information about SEAL training in exchange for an introduction to her award-winning journalist father, she jumps at the chance. The situation Brett lobs into her father's lap is a major scoop.  But the secret she discovers about Brett is just as newsworthy. Will her feelings for this wounded warrior win out, or will she release a story guaranteed to destroy Brett’s SEAL career?

When Tess’s father is kidnapped, Brett’s team is deployed to find him. At the same time, a leak in the investigation puts Tess and Brett’s lives in danger. Will Brett be able to break through the lasting effects of his injuries and prove he’s once again a battle-ready SEAL? Or will he and Tess lose everything at the whim of a vengeful killer?

Breaking Through is available at:

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Smashword

And will be available at Apple, Kobo, and other distributers in a few weeks.

It will also be available in print at Amazon in a week or so.

Thanks to Kally and all her fans for having me. I’ve loved being here.

Teresa Reasor

Again, be sure to fill out the Rafflecopter below to be entered for the giveaway. 

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Release Weekend Party ~ Joey W Hill ~ Giveaway #2

This hour I have the fabulous Joey W Hill with me. She is here to talk about how to help someone understand the BDSM communtiy. Thank you Joey for being here.

A story is worth a hundred explanations… 

by Joey W. Hill

Due to the 50 Shades frenzy, I’ve been doing a lot of radio interviews lately, explaining the appeal of BDSM Romance. There’s the usual interest in the mechanics – toys, discipline, suspension, etc --but also a lot of curiosity about what being a Dom or sub means. Helping folks understand the deep psychology in a Dom/sub relationship is not a pithy, three-sentence answer. I’ve come to the conclusion the best response is recommending that the listeners read a few good BDSM romances, because so much of being a Dom/sub is about intuitive feeling. A story can draw a picture where clinical facts fall far short, or leave people with the wrong impression.

For instance, when I explain a 24/7 sub might keep her eye on her Master at a party, bringing him a new glass of wine, ensuring his plate is full, etc, I can feel some of my female listeners drawing the conclusion that the sub is a 1950s throwback who needs to be introduced to the feminist movement. However, what if I gave them this excerpt from Afterlife instead? 

In this scene, Rachel is in Jon’s office. He’s had her kneel by his leg, has been simply stroking her hair as he works on the design of a drawing. His co-worker, Peter, has come in. Even though Peter is also a Dom, Rachel is uncertain what to do with this new turn of events… 

Jon flexed his hand on her nape, a reminder to stay where she was as she began to push herself away from his knee. A flutter of embarrassment and uncertainty went through her, the muscles under his touch going tense as wire. “I was just talking with Brad in Costa Rica,” Peter said. “That CNC machine installed last week has some kind of weird shimmy in it that’s throwing off the tolerances. Their mechanics are baffled. I’ve got him on hold and he wants to run it by you.”

“Okay, put him on speaker.”

If there had been any discernible pause, anything she could call a surprised hesitation or shock at finding her here, she didn’t detect it in Peter’s voice. He also didn’t greet her, didn’t address her, didn’t acknowledge her separately. He was treating her as a slave doing her Master’s bidding.

She might not have been in any BDSM clubs until her ill-advised visit to Club More, but when she was at the peak of her crazed fever to integrate this in her life, she’d delved into hundreds of Internet scenarios that stoked her own desires. However, it wasn’t even that which told her Peter’s behavior was appropriate, expected. She just knew.

The realization sent a hard jolt through her, a combined physical and emotional reaction she couldn’t control. Peter touched her shoulder, an intimate slide of his fingers over the line to her collarbone. Through that casual touch, he would recognize there was no bra beneath, even if the stretch of the nearly transparent silk over her erect nipples didn’t. He pulled her hair, a mild tease, before he moved toward Jon’s desk and punched the button on the phone on the desk. “Brad, I’ve got Jon here. Go.”

Last night had been a shock to her system, the details of which she’d begun to deny and avoid almost before she let herself revisit them. So in all her years of picturing the first true Master-sub experience of her life, she never would have imagined this. Or how overwhelming and stimulating it was, such that the shaking was getting worse. She had to lock her jaw so her teeth wouldn’t chatter. She kept her eyes down, fastened on Jon’s polished shoe. She wondered who did that for him. Probably a dry cleaner. The laces were precisely double-knotted. The thin dark sock etched out the bones of his ankle. She couldn’t help herself. She made a track along the curve of that ball joint with her fingertip, a whisper of a touch, then followed the slope of the shoe’s mouth.

He was asking questions of the invisible Brad. The questions were involved, technical issues regarding machine programming and gears, engine parts. Listening to him talk like that, all while having her at his knee like this, was quite possibly the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced. He hadn’t stopped that absent stroke of her hair, but as she slipped a finger inside his shoe, trying to trace his insole, he gave a lock of hair a quick tug, a reproof. She stopped, but kept her hand on his foot. He didn’t tug again, so she was glad the contact was okay. Her cheek was against his knee, after all, her temple against the inside of his thigh. From the position of his legs, she saw Peter was leaning against Jon’s desk, his ankles crossed. Unlike Jon and Lucas, he wore jeans, Nikes. He probably had his arms crossed over his broad chest, those biceps impressively curved.

Until this moment, she realized she hadn’t even thought about her blouse being open several buttons. In this position, Peter definitely could see the bare curves. Instead of being appalled, she was excited. She was safe, with Jon. A Master who would take care of her, like he said.

“Call us if that doesn’t work,” Peter said at last. “I’ll be down next week.”

“Hey, bring Dana with you again. She scalped me at poker last time and I want to win my money back.”

“You’re an embarrassment, Brad. Letting a blind woman beat you at five card stud. I’ll tell her you’re ready to lose more of your money, though.”

Peter cut the connection after a few more comments back and forth. “Thanks, Jon. I knew you were on a tight timeline on that drawing, but this was holding up production.”

“No problem. I’m pretty much ready to send this down to scanning. Just need to put the revision number on it. Rachel’s good for the concentration.”

“I’ll bet she is.” Peter pushed off of the desk and moved to stand beside Jon, studying the drawing in progress. As he did, he gave her shoulder that teasing caress again, and then he nipped the collar of her shirt between two fingers, eased it off her shoulder. Rachel held her breath, every nerve ending conscious of Jon’s fingers as he adjusted his sensual, slow massage so Peter could touch her, trace her bare collarbone. When he dropped to the upper curve of her breast, it made her jerk, sent a jolt through her nipple like electric shock, even though he was nowhere close to it. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

It wasn’t trepidation making her quake like that, not by a long shot. She was burning up with desire, two men’s hands touching her at one Master’s behest.

...let my friends gangbang you in an alley...

No. It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t. She thrust her ex-husband’s deprecations from her mind, her hand resting on Jon’s foot. Whatever this was, she wanted it clean and pure, a treasure she could lock away from all that, because she was smart enough to know it was going to end soon enough.

“Hey.” She didn’t even realize her aroused trembling had become something else, or that Peter had left, until Jon bent from the stool and put both arms around her body, pulling her deeper into the vee of his legs. Her back was against the stool between them. She was twitching with an emotional reaction that felt too close to a panic attack for comfort. “Easy. Breathe. You’re amazing, Rachel.”

“You like your women edgy and neurotic?” She gave a harsh chuckle, but she was holding onto his arm that stretched over her breasts. “God, Jon, that was...I didn’t even...it didn’t bother me. I wanted...more.”

“I know.”

“This is the way it starts.” She needed to get up, needed to put space away from him. “I can’t get lost in this.”

He kept her captured inside his arms easily. “Rachel, if you’d been here alone, and Peter had done that, what would you have done? No, stop squirming. Close your eyes, imagine it. I’m not here. He is. You’re sitting on the sofa, and he leans down, unbuttons your blouse, pulls it off your shoulder to admire your breasts. How does that feel?”

She set her jaw. “Wrong. He’s engaged.” At his silence, she knew there was more to it, but she couldn’t say that, any more than she could call Jon...what everything in her wanted to call him. She settled for a whisper of the truth. “You aren’t there.”

He cupped her jaw, tilted her head up and back to his mouth and claimed her lips. Hot, strong, forceful, so she continued to quiver in his grip, submitting to the demand. When he lifted his head, she was nearly limp. “You’re damn right I’m not.” She saw that flash of steel, his lips set in a serious line. “You’re teaching tonight, right? But tomorrow your schedule is clear?”

She should wonder how he knew that, but all she could think about was the picture they made, her on her knees, pulled back against him, her body arched up to him this way, breasts straining against the partially open shirt, every part of her hungering for him. His long legs caging her on either side. Those blue eyes filling every corner of her vision. “All right, then. Tomorrow night, I’m going to come to your place at seven o’clock. It better be spotless, the way you normally keep it. I’m particular to eggplant parmesan and a good red wine, and from what I saw of your kitchen, you like to cook. You’ll put out one place setting. Mine. Any food you eat or wine you drink that night will come from my hands, my mouth.”

It would never happen. Between now and then, the enchantment of this moment would disappear and her fears would return. The spell only existed in his presence. She’d be calling him frantically, hoping to get his voice mail, telling him she’d had something unexpected come up. She’d run away to check into a hotel for the night. She’d—

“I’ll be on time, so five minutes before I get there, you unlock the door. Then you kneel by my chair. Submissive position. Hands behind your back, back straight, knees parted to shoulder width. You leave your hair down. You don’t do that too often, do you? Because you think you’re too old to wear it down like a girl, but you can’t bear to cut it.” Before she could respond, he continued. “Turn up your heat to keep warm, because other than this beautiful hair, you’ll wear only that pair of cherry-red heels. What’s your favorite flower?”

She couldn’t keep up with him, let alone voice her reservations. “Wildflowers,” she whispered. “No particular kind.”

“What grows wild and unexpected on the roadsides, hmm?” His lips brushed the sensitive skin behind her ear. “Perfect.” He slid his hand down the curve of her spine to her ass. Weighing one buttock in his hand, he smoothed his fingers over it then tightened, causing a whimper to come to her lips.

“I know you’re worrying that by tomorrow night you’ll have shut down or be running from this again. And you will be. But I’m going to give you a leash, something to keep you tethered to my will, even when I’m not with you to enforce it. Come with me.”

So what do you think? Does this answer the question better than some dry psychobabble (grin)? Hope you enjoyed this glimpse, and happy release weekend, Kally!

(Note: Afterlife is Book 4 in the 5-book Knights of the Board Room series. All five can standalone, but getting to know all the five K&A men from the beginning doubles the fun -wink). Find me and all my books at my website, www.storywitch.com.


Joey has generously offered a prize for the giveaway, please fill out the Rafflecopter below to enter.

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Release Weekend Party Kickoff!!! Giveaway #1

Thanks for joining me in the kickoff to my Release Weekend Party for Nobody's Perfect (Rescue Me #4). Yesterday morning, I made an announcement on my Facebook Author Page and on my Amazon Author Central Page's discussion on Nobody's Perfect to say that the book won't be cleaned up for you until this weekend, most likely Sunday. I could apologize again, but I'd be more embarrassed if I'd released the book before I thought it was the best book I'd ever written. Now I'm satisfied to say that I have achieved my goal. 

This book certainly was aptly named, though! I have struggled with the ending for four months, which was why I wouldn't publish it on the originally expected June date. Yesterday morning, I finally got the ending the way I wanted it.  

It took me a long time to break down that last emotional hurdle--the last trigger, the one I didn't want to face. A wonderful sub, Ekatarina "Saya" Sayanova, whom I first met when she e-mailed me in June wondering when the heck the book was coming out, helped give me the courage to face the scene and #finishthefuckingbook (my original and favorite hashtag on Twitter, although I can't understand why other writers haven't picked up on it yet).  

Anyway, writing this last scene (chapters 24 and 25) yesterday morning provided the catharsis both Savi and I needed. RELEASE! But with that monumental event happening the day before the expected release date (and edits still happening), I announced that the book would come out this weekend instead. 

So, today we're going to kick off a 3-day Release Watch Party. I know everyone blocked reading time today, so you'll also find out about some of my friends' new releases (some today, I believe), and chances to win more books and goodies. Visiting today (in alpha order, not necessarily posting order) will be Chris Almeida & Cecilia Aubrey, Shayla Black, Lexi Blake, Eliza Gayle, Joey W. Hill, Alannah Lynne, Teresa Reasor, and Bianca Sommerland! 

Prizes will be drawn be after 12 midnight CDT Saturday (which gives you all day Sept. 14 & 15 to enter). See below for more details about today's party.  

And while you all are partying here, I'll be going back and forth all day with my editorial team and beta readers, so that I can send it to the formatter. 

We are going to have this book all cleaned up and in your hands no later than end of day Sunday, Sept. 16. 

Thanks for your continued support and patience on this incredible journey for me! On Facebook, I've described this last month as the 9th month of pregnancy. (My DIL is due Oct. 1 with my first grandchild--a boy--so that's also foremost in my consciousness right now.) Labor began about a week ago, I believe the place where I posted STFU as a comment to someone who posted a tick-tock message on my Facebook wall as the transition stage. Yesterday, was the pushing stage and the baby will be born today--but it's a big baby! (Right now, about 160,000 words with NO subplots. As announced in my Aug. 31 newsletter, I removed Marc and Angelina's subplot because it was a distraction to Damian and Savi's story. But I plan to complete their story in a separate book--now book 5 in the series, but am reluctant to make any promises on when you will get it.)

So, while we clean up this baby, you all enjoy yourselves today, discover some new authors and/or new books, and just hang on a little longer. No more delays.

And thanks for your ongoing support and patience. I hope to God I never have to birth to another baby like this one, but I was determined when I started this series over a year ago that I would write a book about the realities of become a sexual being again after the traumas of child sexual abuse. This book will be an intensely emotional read for survivors of abuse, rape, incest, as well as those suffering from PTSD from combat and other traumatic events. Too many times in the Romances I've read, the heroine's emotional scars just disappear with the love of a good hero. If I'm going to bring you more realistic BDSM, I also want to show the reality of being a survivor of any kind of sexual abuse. It doesn't go away--ever. 

But the overall message I hope readers will take away from this book is one of hope and healing. None of us is broken--trust me, don't EVER let Sir Damian hear you say that--and none is too wounded that she or he can't find love. The hardest step is building trust and then lowering the defenses enough to let that worthy person inside your heart. {{hugs}}

My thanks to my assistant, Leagh, for pulling off this party. She truly did ALL the work of getting postings from the authors and will be on here much more today than I will. Please be sure and let her know how much you appreciate her! I know I wouldn't have been able to do a release party for another month if it were solely up to me!


There will be new blog posts all day long. So without further ado, here are the details. 

Each hour today (beginning with this post), there will be a new author visiting my blog bringing prizes, guest posts, and fun book information. There are lots of chances to win. All giveaways will be open until 12 midnight CDT tomorrow (Saturday) so you have plenty of time to enter. All winners will be chosen and contacted by e-mail next week.

GIVEAWAY!

For your first chance to win, fill out the Rafflecopter below. (You will need to fill out a new form at EACH of the posts today for all chances to win.) 

(While I *love* to read comments and welcome them--THE WINNER WILL ONLY BE CHOSEN FROM ENTRIES TO THE FORM!)

So to kick things off today I have a special gift package for one of my readers. I am offering one randomly drawn winner a copy of any Rescue Me book (including this one or a future one), swag (pen, trading cards, bookmarks, and an autographed hand fan), and a $10 Gift Certificate for a bookseller of your choice (chosen from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and All Romance eBooks). 

To enter, please fill out the Rafflecopter below. THIS drawing is open internationally. (Please watch for details in each specific drawing, especially those involving prizes other than e-books, to see if international entries are included.)

Thank you to everyone who is celebrating with me! 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Kally's News and the Perfect Announcement

It's been nearly a month since I've posted a blog here. Yikes! I have been working, really I have! As you'll see below, I've been guest blogging a couple times; attended the Authors After Dark conference in New Orleans last week, where I got to meet lots of readers and erotic romance authors; and have been working on revising Nobody's Perfect based on input from my beta readers and editors. Here's some news that might interest you!

Kentucky Indie Writers on Edin Road Radio

I and my fellow Kentucky Indie Writers (KIW) members will be the August guests at Edin Road Radio. Listen to the great interviews here. And, if you can tune in live at 6:30 p.m. Eastern Thursday, Aug. 16, you'll hear me live. I'll be reading from the beginning of Section Two of Masters at Arms, and possibly the edited Prologue of Nobody's Perfect, if time permits. 

Nobody's Perfect Release Date Set!!! 

Great news! After conferring with my editorial staff and publicity team, the release day has been set for Sept. 14!!! The release-day party will take place on Facebook (lots of fun and prizes all day long with some of my favorite BDSM authors joining in with giveaways, too!), followed Sept. 17-21 with a Perfect Release Blog Tour and lots more great giveaways (including daily Gift Card prizes and a $200 GC at an online bookseller of your choice). 

In the editing phase, I realized something that will be announced in my newsletter the week of Aug. 27. Be sure you've signed up at the newsletter link (above right or in the blog message below) so you won't miss the announcement!

Master Adam is the Ultimate Dom of 2012

Wow! What competition! Masters Logan and Marcus gave him quite a run, and each man was on top for some portion of the contest, but congratulations to Master Adam Montague for this amazing victory, less than a year after he'd first been introduced to the world of BDSM romance reads. I would like to thank all my readers and fans for voting, even if you voted for one of the other two awesome Doms in the contest (and I know it was hard to choose for many of you). There were more than 11,000 votes cast before it was over! Of course, Master Adam will always be "my" ultimate Dom, but I'm happy  to share him with you all for the coming year!

I want to thank Francesca of Under the Covers Book Blog for hosting the contest and Kelly from Books-n-Kisses for her entry on why she thought Master Adam should win. They made this a lot of fun for me (although Master Adam could have done without the notoriety, because Karla's been teasing him mercilessly ever since).

Now Master Adam is up Summer's Hottest Hero

All Romance EBooks' Summer's Hottest Heroes

Vote HERE for Master Adam!!!

(Note: There are 24-hour down times between 

each of the early rounds where voting isn't permitted)

Master Adam has won the first two rounds in the competition. Wow! He had some awesome competition from the fans of Powerhouse (Kele Moon's hero) and Bones (Jeaniene Frost's hero) in the first two rounds. I'm sure the latest round will be another squeaker, so if you love him best in his pair, please vote for him.

Voting in Round 3 begins at 12 midnight Central Aug. 15 and runs through 12 midnight Central Aug. 21. Be sure to click on each hero's name to find a real treat. ARe asked the heroes to invite their ladies to a special occasion and to prepare the menu. Well, we all know what a great cook Adam is. Ha! (I believe Karla said he can't boil water—and we know what he did to the cinnamon rolls, prompting one of my favorite Master Adam quotes:

"I've brought you breakfast—or tried. Fucking stove..." 

Gawd, I love that man! So click on his name when you vote and see what he's cooking up this time! 

You can vote once each round and have to log in (or sign up for) your free account there in order to vote. Let's keep Master Adam on a roll here!!!!

Recent Guest Blogs

BDSM Authors Playroom
Using BDSM to Heal Past Abuse
July 18, 2012

Author Override at Under the Covers

July 24, 2012

Join my Newsletter and/or Street Brats Team

Be sure to sign up for my newsletter so you can be up to date and enter some great contests to win gift cards and more.

Also if you would like to be one of Kallypso's Street Brats (my street team members who help promote my books by handing out my bookmarks, pens, trading cards, etc.), please e-mail my assistant, Leagh, at assistant@kallypsomasters.com. It's best if you are on Facebook, where the Brats hang out in their own secret group. You can opt to promote online-only, too, and not receive the swag via the mail. 

Thanks for stopping by to check in on me—and now it's back to work I go!

Hot Jocks Blog Hop & Giveaway

When I signed up for this blog hop, I expected to be well into writing the continuation of Baby Dom Luke Denton's story (Nobody's Dream, #5) in the Rescue Me series, but, as you know, I'm still working on Nobody's Perfect (book #4). 


So, I don't have any new scenes about my one and only jock in the series. As fans of the series know, Luke played for the University of Texas Longhorns in college, but he went there primarily for the opportunity for higher education. While he wanted to study industrial arts, he had to change his thinking when he found out they didn't offer that major, so he became an art studio major instead. Now he makes awesome BDSM equipment for the Masters at Arms Club in Denver, as well as does carpentry. 


However, because everyone's awaiting Nobody's Perfect (due out in August), I thought I'd share a brief new scene from that book that involves Luke. This is a Christmas Day scene and we're in Damian's point of view. He thinks he can keep Savi and Marisol in the kitchen and private living quarters of the house on this day, so there shouldn't be a problem. 


Then he notices something that surprises him. 

(Unedited excerpt from Nobody's Perfect, copyright 2012)


Damián pulled in next to Luke's new gray Dodge pick-up truck in the driveway. Judging by the amount of mud on the fenders, he'd been off-road somewhere this morning because it hadn't looked like that last night when Luke had delivered the dollhouse. Marc's friend and SAR partner was becoming a regular at the club. Of course, they'd all worked together a few years ago trying to get the club ready. The man was a helluva carpenter, but his work creating the beautiful equipment in the club was his real gift. Lately, Damián  had been training the "baby Dom," as Marc liked to call him, to wield a bullwhip. The man had finesse with butterfly kisses and Damián doubted he'd want to go any harder on a sub or bottom—not for a while, at least. Lately, the newest Dom at the club seemed more interested in learning rope bondage from Dad.

Damián wondered how Adam and Karla were getting along on their honeymoon. It was hard to believe the wedding had only been a couple weeks ago, given all that had happened since then.

Savi and Marisol had happened. His life would never be the same again. He opened the back door of the Nissan and helped unbuckle Marisol while Savi eased out of the passenger side. She still moved stiffly, favoring her healing rib, but Marc assured him it was just going to take time. There was nothing much they could do. He hated feeling so fucking helpless.

He motioned for them to precede him onto the porch. He didn't expect anyone but Grant and Luke to show up today. He'd told them Savi had no idea the building was a kink club, but they were only going to be in the private residence today, so no sense mentioning it. This was still Dad's house, until he and Karla found a new place.

Normally Damián would be in California for Christmas, but he couldn't leave Savi and Marisol—and sure as hell wasn't going to take them back there. Good thing he'd been able to give his sister Rosa the presents he'd bought and made. They'd left a few days after Savi showed up. He would give them a call later today to see how their day went. He felt torn between two families now. But Rosa and Teresa were healing and Savi and Marisol needed him more now.

He braced himself before opening the screen door. Savi would probably roast his nuts if she knew what went on in parts of the house. But it was also Dad's home, at least until he and Karla found a more appropriate place to raise a kid.

Savi took the screen door as Damián pushed the inner door into the kitchen and was hit in the face with a number of smells.

Italian seasonings. Ham. Cinnamon.

Leather.

Whoa! Mierda. He didn't realize people could smell the club's leather all the way out here in the kitchen. Not to mention a little sweat. He'd never noticed it before, but was probably just used to it. He looked down at Savi and saw her cute little nose scrunching up as she appeared to sniff out the unexpected scent as well.

The confusion on her face was evident. "Adam and Karla's is someone's home?"

Either she hadn't noticed the leather, or was too polite to point it out. "Yeah. This is my adopted dad's place—Adam Montague. Do you remember meeting him and his new wife, Karla, at Rosa's house?"

"Yeah."

"They were married the day you…arrived. They're on their honeymoon right now. Angelina offered to prepare dinner for me and some of…Dad's friends so we wouldn't have to fend for ourselves this Christmas."

Damián looked down at Marisol and back at Savi. "Now you're included. I know he'll love seeing you again, Savi, when he gets back next week."

"Maman, why does it smell like horses here?"

"Shhh, Mari," she whispered, bending down to Marisol. "That's not polite." Still, Damián hadn't missed the question in Savi's eyes.

Okay. How to explain this?

"Hope I didn't smell the place up too badly." Luke came down the hall drying his hair with a towel. He wore a western-cut plaid shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. "Been on a horse all morning and didn't have a chance to change at the SAR barn, so I just came over here and took advantage of the facilities."

Horse leather. Damián grinned, relaxing his guard a bit.

Marisol leaned a little closer to Damián's leg, reminding him that introductions were in order. "Savi and Marisol Baker, I'd like you to meet Luke Denton. He's a…friend of mine. He does search-and-rescue with Marc."

Luke shook Savi's hand, smiling, then hunkered down to Marisol's level and extended his hand to her, as well. "Hello, darlin'. You're cute as a button."

Marisol still wasn't sure about this strange man—good girl. Damián put a protective hand on his little doll's shoulder to reassure her that she was safe. She released her grip on his leg, not as scared, and drew herself up a little taller.

"Buttons aren't cute."

"Hmmm. Well, maybe that's true." He grinned. "But you sure are. Pleased to meet you, Marisol." 

Luke waited for her to become comfortable enough to make the next move. Damián's thumb stroked her shoulder and she stretched her tiny hand out to be swallowed up in Luke's much bigger one.

Now, it's giveaway time! Please comment below and tell me what is your favorite trait of a jock in a romance novel. Winner will receive a free e-book (current or future) in the Rescue Me series--and a set of swag (Master Adam hand fan, "Ahh, Kallypso...the stories you tell" purple ink pen, a bookmark, and a set of three Rescue Me Romance Trading Cards). Drawing will be on/after July 18. As with all my contests, this is open internationally. 

And don't miss the 68 other entries in this Hot Jocks in July Giveaway Blog Hop, sponsored by Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews and Under the Covers blogs! 

Cocked & Loaded, Shootin' Stars & Blasting Giveaway Hop

Blog Hop hosted by:

Queentutt's World of Escapism (Ronda)

&

Close Encounters of the Night Kind (Nikki)

As those of you who have been reading my RESCUE ME series of BDSM erotic romances, you know that the first four books in the series are about some very honorable, heroic Marines, all of whom are wounded warriors. And many of you also know that the Wounded Warrior Project is my favorite charity. I just joined the Advance Guard there with a monthly donation and the fleece blanket they'll be sending me in 4-6 weeks (along with some RESCUE ME swag and an e-book) is going to go to the winning commenter below. 


In a bit, I'm going to share a bit of a scene from my upcoming release about one of the wounded warriors in my series, but first I want to honor some wounded warriors who have touched my heart. 


First, Dane Christopher Sattler, who served in the Army in Iraq and lost his battle with PTSD in January 2011. His mother, Sue, is one of my loyal readers and misses her son so much. This family really brings home to me the sacrifices our military personnel and their families make every day to preserve our freedom. Their service and sacrifice doesn't end with discharge papers.


Another is an anonymous Master Sergeant, US Marine Corps (Retired) who served in active service 22 years and continues to serve as a military contractor now. After reading the first three books in my series, he became a fan and contacted me and has been a big help to me in getting the Marine mindset right in my books--and just before Masters at Arms was released as a free book, he went through the entire book and added even more realism to it, as well as helping me improve the firefight scene at the Second Battle of Fallujah (Iraq) in 2004, the incident that bonds Marc, Adam, and Damian as "family" in this series. 


Last, but not least, is my dad, Joe. He served in the Navy in World War II (lied about his age to get in early) and in the Army in the Korean War. He came home from Korea with PTSD before it had become known as that--and, of course, went without treatment. At family reunions to this day, his brothers and their wives still talk about how bad it was when he first came home. I remember my uncle telling me that his mother and he would roll my dad in a bedroll and sit on him to try and keep him from hurting himself or anyone else. And my mother said one night they were sleeping; she was very pregnant at the time. He suddenly rose up, jumped over her and landed on the floor in the midst of a night terror, but didn't even touch her belly. The memories plagued him for the rest of his life--and he never talked about it, so we don't know what he went through to this day. He died in 1985, but will never be forgotten. When I visited Washington, D.C., a dozen years ago, I went to the Korean War memorial and still remember those haunted faces in the statues there, plus the words "Freedom is not free."


Now, the scene. This is my upcoming (due to be released later this summer) Nobody's Perfect (Rescue Me #4), which continues the story of Damian Orlando, an amputee from Iraq, and Savannah/Savi, the woman he dreamt about for eight long years, who suddenly showed up on his doorstep in need of his help. In this scene, he prepares to reveal his amputation to Savi. 

She held her breath. He seemed so serious, his jaw and body held rigid, guarded.

"Sit down."

Savi looked around. The only place to sit was on the bed. That didn't seem like a good idea.

"Sit. Down." He pointed at the bed, clearly upset with her. She wasn't sure why that bothered her so much. "Savi, I'm not going to…touch you. We're just going to talk."

Savi crossed the room and sat on the same side of the bed, keeping a safe distance away. She wasn't sure what she was afraid of. Damián wouldn't hurt her. He'd been nothing but gentle and supportive since she and Marisol had arrived here.

But he was still a man.

So, what was it he needed to tell her that made him so uncomfortable? She didn't want to know anything bad about him.

"When I got out of Iraq, I was fucked up."

"Damián, that's not unusual. You saw horrific things. War is…"

He held his hand up and halted her string of supportive words. She supposed they sounded trite, but she hadn't meant them to be.

"Don't go into therapist mode on me, Savi." He grinned, so maybe he wasn't upset with her for naturally trying to put him at ease. He was such a gentle soul. Last night, when Marisol had surprised him with the cake, he'd had unshed tears in his eyes. Processing the horrors of war would be difficult for someone who was much better at making love than war.

Don't think about making love with him. That would never happen again.

His grin faded and he ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it back from his face. She wondered why he didn't have it tied back. She didn't see it loose like this except when he got up in the morning.

"I fucked up a mission."

Savi's heart went out to him. She knew how hard it was for Marine to fail on a mission.

"We lost our sergeant because I couldn't act fast enough…"

"Damián, you can't blame yourself for…"

He glared at her. "Hear me out. This is hard enough to admit as it is."

"I'm sorry. Go on."

"I still have nightmares about it, especially around my Alive Day."

"Alive Day?"

He looked down at his feet. "That's the day I should have died, too. But I surv…I didn't die."

Savi knew not to interrupt anymore. He needed to talk and she needed to just listen. His body was held so stiffly, he barely breathed. She waited. After several moments, he continued.

"A grenade came over onto the roof where we'd held our position all day. I saw the damned thing, but I froze until it was too late to get away. When it went off, Sergeant Miller was killed. He…" Damián's breathing became rapid and she scooted closer to him on the bed, laying her hand on his thigh. She squeezed, hoping to help him focus on the present and not get lost in the memories. He placed his hand over hers and squeezed her back as if she were a lifeline.

"He died on top of me."

"Oh, God, Damián. I'm so sorry!" Savi shuddered as she thought about how that must have felt for him. Thoughts of having a weight like that on her caused beads of sweat to break out on her upper lip. But that was different. What Damián had been through was even more horrific.

"I'll never block out that image as long as I live. I could have saved him, but I…froze."

Hearing him take the blame for something beyond his control broke her heart. Not unusual for those in combat situations, though. They were trained to watch out for each other. Nothing she could say would help assuage his guilt that a member of his unit was killed, even if she could come up with the words to say. She just squeezed his thigh again, knowing there probably was more to come. She braced herself mentally.

"I came to in a military hospital in Germany. When I realized what I'd lost, I didn't want to go on."

"Lost?" Instantly, she knew he wasn't talking about his sergeant now.

He avoided making eye contact with her, but nodded, his gaze remaining on his feet. Oh, God, no! It became clear to her why she'd seen him limping so many times. She looked down at his feet. For the first time, she realized she'd never seen him without his shoes or boots on. Odd, considering they'd lived in such close quarters for two months.

Dread washed over her as she slid off the bed onto the floor. With shaking hands, she sat in front of his feet and reached out to touch his legs. Starting at his knees, which were flesh on solid muscle, she ran each of her hands down the backs of his legs until her left hand bumped into straps on his right leg. On the other leg she felt sinew and muscle. Unharmed.

She reached down to the hem of his jeans leg and folded up the right one. Damián reached out and stayed her hand, but she brushed him away.

"Please, Damián. I need to see what they did to you."

His hand went to her chin and he lifted her face to his. The pain—no, the torment—there told her how hard this was for him. She needed to back off and give him time to prepare himself. This wasn't about what she needed. She had to do what Damián needed.

Two Giveaways
Contest Information

There are two types of contests as part of this blog hop. The first (see #1) is provided by the hosts of this blog hop--Queentutt's World of Escapism blog and Close Encounters of the Night Kind blog. The second (see #2) is a chance to win a prize package I'm providing. 


1) To enter into the Cocked and Loaded Grand Prize drawing for one of two Kindle Fires and lots of other cool prizes, you must go HERE and sign up using the Rafflecopter form provided. 

2) To enter to win your choice of e-book from my Rescue Me series, some swag (bookmark, Master Adam hand fan, Rescue Me trading cards, and a pen), plus the Wounded warrior Project fleece blanket, please sign up for my newsletter HERE (if you haven't already done so) and comment below WITH your email address. (Please allow up to 8 weeks to receive the blanket, because I won't get it from the WWP for 4-6 weeks from today.)

This hop ends midnight on July 11 and winners will be chosen and emailed by the 13th. Thanks for stopping by--and please keep our wounded warriors in your thoughts and prayers! If you are able, consider a donation to help the good people at the Wounded Warrior Project continue to provide services and support to those who have given so much to us.